Moonchild
by Shadow's Life
Summary: Life doesn't wait for you: A lesson in the learning for many at Hogwarts. Just beacause Voldemort is gone doesn't mean you can't be assailed by something much deeper. DH compliant. Chapter 1 ssucks, please give it a chance anyway.
1. High Profile

"The court calls Narcissa Black to the stand."

Narcissa stepped forward, her throat dry; without pausing or looking up, she walked to the chair in the middle of the platform, and sat down. The motions were devoid of any of her former grace, a calculated move. Friends would be touched by the subtly pathetic change, foes would find it something to gloat over. The danger was from those who would feel discomfort from her position. People didn't like things that unsettled them. They'd want to send her out of sight, out of mind. It was a risk she had to take. The real crowd leaders would feel little discomfort.

She raised her eyes and glanced around the room. She knew every face there, from countless occasions: inner parties she had given, social events she had attended, courteous exchanges in the elevators of the Ministry, attentions of social climbers everywhere else. Some of those faces reflected hate; others pity; a handful were impassive. Those few faces lent her a small amount of strength; in days past, those faces had the capacity to disquiet her to almost the point of fear - but now, they were the only faces that hadn't changed since then. They reminded her of who she was, and who she was not. She was not a mere attachment to the Malfoy family. With that identity stripped from her, her old self resurfaced. She was a Black. _Toujours pur._ She would not be humbled now.

"The court calls Narcissa Black to speak." With a start, she realized that she had paid no attention to Percy Weasley's droning voice, as he had read out the formalities and charges. No matter. They had all heard it before, a thousand times. No one had listened. She stood.

"Witches, wizards, and warlocks of the honourable Wizengamot." Her voice was low but steady and clear. "I stand before you today, not as the Narcissa Malfoy that I once was, but as Narcissa Black. My birth name, my birth identity: little more than a proud girl from a well-known family."

This line had been worded carefully, an inconspicuous but definite reminder to them that she was no common filth, even without her husband. She deserved the respect her family was accorded. Of course, it helped that Sirius had been her cousin, and that Potter was his grandson; he even stayed at Grimmauld Place now. At one time, she would have hated herself for using such a connection, but years of living with Lucius had taught her to bend such scruples when necessary. Too much was at stake now. She glanced at the chair above the main table, and continued.

"What I have done, as such, will, I know, be judged accordingl. I expect no more consideration to be given to me than would be givn to the meanest of my circle, the lowest, the vilest. I consider myself a victim, but i know that I am to be judged as a participant. I know also that I deserve it." She took a deep breath as the crowd murmured in surprise. Good. She had their attention. She had had that anyway, but at least the hostility in the room had lessened somewhat. Exactly as expected.

"I state now that in my belief, my hand was forced in the matter of joining the Dark Lord -- eighteen years ago as well as today. At that time, i could not speak out, for if I did, my late husband would have been convicted. I could not allow that to happen." She paused, and smiled bitterly. "There is no more fear of that. Now, I may state freely that at both instances in my life, I was under severe emotional duress when I made the decision to join. At first, it was my husband who needed to protect me from the Dark Lord -- after the late Regulus Black, my cousin, offended him, his ire was turned on all the members of my family. I married to protect myself, and joined to prove my subservience. It was the only way to stay alive.

"Later on, when he came back, I wished for anything but to join. In this entire chain of events, I have never wished to support one side or the other. My sole motive was to look out for my own. It was to this end that I returned to the Dark Lord three years ago. I had to, or my entire family would suffer dearly for it. I had a son. He had to be protected. Every crime I have committed , assisted in, and witnessed without attempting intervention, has been to protect my family." She laughed brokenly. "My husband is dead. But my sons are alive. I need to stay with them, to protect them. Until my youngest grows to a suitable age, I wish to be with him. I wish the remnants of my family to remain intact for his childhood, at least. I will willingly accept any punishment meted out by the honourable members of the Wizengamot, even the death sentence. I only ask that it be delayed for a period, until Cygnus grows to tthe age of ten. Nothing more."

There was absolute silence in the courtroom.

Finally, the Minister for Magic spoke. Mafalda Hopkirk's beady eyes pierced Narcissa, hard as agate. Her voice was even. "Ten years is a big gift to ask for."

"I realize that. But one must ask for what one needs, if there is any chance of getting it."

"So you believe that there is a chance."

"I believe that the Wizengamot is fair -- and that, therefore, there is a chance of anything happening."

"On what grounds do you believe that you possess the right to ask?" A small, bespectacled man next to the Minister spoke.

"On the grounds that I am a mother who has at all times and all occasions displayed the utmost care and affection towards her children -- and that my stated motives were revealed last March, when I saved the life of Harry Potter in exchange for knowledge of my son."

A murmur rose in the courtroom. "So the rumours are true, then?"

"They are not rumours if the person saying them is the peson concerned." The boy had moved forward in his seat, looking annoyed. "Maybe the court should consider actually taking witnessed evidence into account when it's presented next time."

The five at the table all shifted in their seats a little,except Mafalda. "Forgive me, Mr. Potter. It was my wish to see whether Ms. Black would call upon this evidence herself before taking it for granted."

In other words, they didn't completely trust him. No wonder. The boy had been steadfastly refusing association with the Ministry for two years. His sudden involvement with the court hearings had probably gotten their backs up. But at least, it had worked out well for her. The result of it, however, still remained to be seen.

"The court is adjourned until three in the afternoon, for lunch." The Wizengamot rose from their seats, and began to file out. Two Ministry guards appeared at her sides.

"If you please, madam." She rose silently, and walked out, flanked by the two men, to the nearby room they had allowed her to stay in since their assets were frozen. Kept her was more the phrase for it, she reflected. She could live independently, but they needed her under their eye.

Draco looked up as she opened the door, and smiled uncertainly. She smiled softly in reply, and glanced at his lap. He stood carefully, holding the little bundle in his arm with a gentle care one would expect from a father. She smiled again to herself as she thought this. This baby would have a father figure, at least, if not a father. The opposite of what Draco had had.

The door rang just as she took the baby in her arms. He went to get it. Potter stepped in.

"Hello."

"Can I help you?" A diguised way of asking him what he was doing here. It also warned Draco to keep silent, saying that this conversation wasn't one to be taken lightly.

"I actually came to see if you were all right here. Are the accomodations acceptable?"

"Perfectly. Why do you ask?"

He laughed mirthlessly. "Grimmauld Place had been designated as a 5th level safe zone now, I was told this morning. Simple political move that prevents my causing any trouble; but it has its advantages. I can take any tenants I wish, except those already condemned. If this trial drags on any longer, you're welcome to come, if you wish."

"Thank you, but that's unnecessary. We are perfectly content here." So they were; but she understood his reasons. A safe zone could not be used as an area for any Dark purposes, and was judged as one by the strength of enchantments surrounding it. Grimmauld Place was far more than 5th level, but a 5th level designation meant that the Ministry conductedmonthly checks on the area. They were trying to assert authority over him. Taking in a tenant like herself would be a direct challenge to them, useful in his circumstances.

"All right, then. The offer's open, though." He paused, and looked at the bundle in Draco's arms.

"Sons. That's the first I've heard."

"That information has remained prviate until this point, when I was required to declare it."

"So he was born here?"

"No. I was taken to St. Mungo's."

"Oh." He paused again. "Could I see him?"

Draco recoiled involuntarily, but Narcissa answered without missing a beat. "Of course. Draco?"

Reluctantly, the bundle was brought forward. The boy took it with a surprising gentleness, gazing into the tiny, perfect face with an unreadable expression.

"He's very like you."

"Yes."

"What's his name?"

"Cygnus." Draco answered this time, but the boy didn't look up for a long moment. Finally, he moved to handle the sleeping child back, when his eyes opened.

Cygnus watched him carefully, with large grey eyes that were clear as a stone pool. For a moment, the two seemed wrapped up in their own world, each gauging the other. Finally, Cygnus looked away, searching. The boy handed him back to her, and sheclutched him protectively.

"Thank you for coming."

"It was nothing. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

He closed the door softly after him, and Narcissa sat down gently, with a sigh, opening her robe to feed the child in her arms. Draco discreetly went to the other room, picking up a book.


	2. After All

"Shall Master be eating his supper here today?"

"Yes, Kreacher. Could you make something simple, please? I don't think all the dinner parties are agreeing with me very well."

"Of course, Master. Would onion soup suffice?"

"That would be perfect. Thanks."

The elf beamed widely, and scuttled off. Harry sighed, and passed his hand over his eyes. The week had been exhausting. He had run circles around Mafalda Hopkirk and her office members for the better part of it, trying to convince them to accept his testimony. It had been infuriating to meet the iron wall that she was; but he had to admire her. He had had no idea that the name he had seen on every Ministry missive he had received from his childhood had such a forceful personality behind her. Despite having received an invitation to the Wizengamot – becoming the youngest member in its history – he noticed that all Ministry attempts to acquire him and his image had been cut off since her institution as Minister for Magic. Grudgingly, he regarded her with respect. But that hadn't made his job any easier.

At least they had got off. They were the last of the lot, and he could finally rest. No more court hearings. The words were music to his ears.

The doorbell rang, and Kreacher shot down the corridor before Harry could even get up. The curtains of Sirius' mother's portrait flew open, but she was silent. Silently, he thanked whatever lucky stars had given him the idea of telling her that he was a friend of Regulus. She was almost in love with him now.

"Master, 'tis Miss Cissy! Miss Cissy has come!" Kreacher ran into the drawing room, jumping in excitement."

"Narcissa?"

"Miss Cissy and Master Draco have come!"

He got up hurriedly, straightening his shirt and jeans. He debated throwing on robes, but decided against it. He walked quickly down the corridor, meeting them as they were stepping inside.

"Here, let me help you with that." Kreacher threw him an injured look as he lifted their trunk and brought it in. The three followed him in. He set the trunk down in the hall, and led them into the drawing room.

"So you've accepted."

Narcissa laughed hollowly. "I don't know why I didn't see it coming."

He had wondered, too. With the Malfoy manor deemed currently to be frozen assets, they needed lodging. But who would accept them? Who would even sell to them? He said nothing.

"Narcissa." The old voice creaked, almost sweetly, from the portrait.

"Hello, Aunt. How are you today?"

"Very well, thank you. It's been such a long time. How is your husband?"

"He's doing well also, although he's rather busy at the moment. Draco and I have come here so that our home is completely open for his use."

Mrs. Black's eyes narrowed. "Don't lose hold, now. That's not a good position to be in."

Narcissa smiled, confidently. Harry wondered at her composure. "It's quite all right, Aunt. I will keep an eye on him. But I don't believe it will be necessary to worry."

"Good. You are secure in your place. Ensure that it remains that way."

"Of course, Aunt."

"Have you met Regulus' friend here?"

"Yes, Aunt. I have met him."

"He will ensure you're comfortable. Remember to return often to your home." The drapes closed suddenly.

The slim figure seemed to lose stature almost immediately, her face crumpling. Draco stepped forward, one arm holding Cygnus, the other supporting her shoulders.

"Why?"

It was a moment before he received a response. "A widow is to be looked down on. She'd give us hell if she found out." Draco's voice was somehow deeper, quieter. "It's necessary." He held tighter to his mother. Harry felt awkward, out of place.

Cygnus interrupted the silence, cooing softly. Narcissa took him, calmer now. She smiled into his face, and laughed as he put a hand out towards her nose.

"Well, then."

She looked up.

"Why don't you sit down?"

"Thank you." She sat, and Draco sat with her. "About price of lease…"

"That won't be necessary."

Draco's eyes hardened. "We're well able to pay. We don't need charity."

"It's not charity." Harry felt his temper rising. "You're family." He paused. "If Sirius hadn't given it to me, this would be your place now."

"That affects nothing."

"Look, has a Black ever had to pay to stay here? It's an ancestral house, right? Doesn't that mean you have the right to stay here?"

The two of them watched him. Slowly, Narcissa nodded. "Very well. We require only two rooms for our use—"

"Take the house if you like. I'm staying in Regulus' room right now. The rest is yours."

"Why are you living here if you don't want to?" Draco looked at him, eyes challenging.

"I do want to. This house is important to me. But I'm one person. I don't need and can't use this much space."

"We're three people – not such a different situation."

"You're a family. A family needs a house. One person living alone doesn't need more than a room."

After a long silence, Narcissa spoke. "Very well. We will live here, and we will utilize the house as we see fit, barring Regulus' rooms. As you wish." She stood; even though she was at least a foot and a half shorter, Harry was suddenly reminded of Professor McGonagall. He smiled, and stood to follow her.

"For tonight, we can stay in my old room. Draco, would you mind using your aunt's?" Seeing the look of trepidation on Harry's face, she laughed. "Don't worry. I meant Andromeda's. I realize Bellatrix's must have been cleared out by now."

Harry smiled. "Kreacher, could you please make a little more dinner?"

"Already done, sir, already done!"

"I hope you like onion soup."

Draco grimaced.

"Fine, you decide dinner tomorrow."


	3. Settling

Harry opened his eyes and stared at the cool grey ceiling, still lost in his dream. That didn't usually happen; but then, he'd never had a dream quite so vivid. Even his dreams in fifth year hadn't been like this.

It was a simple dream, really. A lunar eclipse, he thought. The moon, awash in red. But the red didn't feel like light. Somehow, he had known with certainty that it had been blood.

He wondered absently why he wasn't more afraid of that. He wondered again why he was asking himself. A simple child's dream like that wouldn't bother him any more. He hadn't really expected it, but it should have been obvious. He refocused on the grey ceiling, noting as he already had a thousand times that it looked like silk, soft and understated, yet luxurious.

He hadn't been able to bring himself to stay in Sirius' room after coming. On a random whim, he had picked Regulus'. Sometimes, he heard the Sorting Hat in his head: _You would have done well in Slytherin…_

It didn't bother him, as it would have only a year ago.

With a sigh, he got out of bed, and stepped into the shower. He was out in a minute, washed, and dressed, and neat in five. He had discovered with some surprise that over the past seven years – not counting the last – he had developed surprisingly regular habits. There was something to be said for that – no time wasted. He quickly came down the stairs.

Narcissa was downstairs already, Cygnus in her arms. She smiled quickly at him, then looked back down. He smiled back. The Malfoys were surprisingly easy to live with. They were all silent, neat, and unobtrusive. Even Draco was the same. He had found it difficult to use their names originally – for a while, they had remained "Malfoy and his mum" in his head – but he was over even that now. Life was peaceful and smooth.

And he had to admit, Kreacher was happy.

"Good morning, sir! Will you be having porridge for breakfast?"

"Good morning, Kreacher. Yes, please."

"Of course, sir! Right away!" The elf all but skipped back into the kitchen. Unlike him, the Malfoys never ate there, so the dining room was opened again for regular use. He had felt awkward originally, with just three people – four including Cyg – at the huge, imposing slab of mahogany. But, like everything else, he had gotten used to it. He sat down in his usual spot, two chairs down from the head. Draco was diagonally opposite him, half finished with buttered toast and a cup of tea, reading. He looked up for a moment, nodded at Harry, and went back.

He had no idea that his enemy of seven years read so much. He didn't know what to make of it.

A steaming bowl of porridge, a pitcher of treacle, and a glass of pumpkin juice appeared in front of him.

"Thank you, Kreacher."

"Yes, sir!" The elf had finally got used to being thanked.

In ten minutes, he was done. He got up with Draco, took his bowl and glass, and went to put it in the sink. Draco eyed him, then let out the most inaudible of sighs before doing the same with his plate and cup. This little byplay had gone on for the past three weeks.

"Mother, I'm going out today." The two of them exchanged glances, and Narcissa nodded.

"Careful."

"Of course. See you."

"See you."

He turned and left. The doorbell rang. Harry followed him to the door.

The door didn't so much open when opened as burst. Two mops of hair – one chestnut, one fiery red – attacked from outside, jumping on Draco and squealing. Harry watched, arms crossed.

"When does my turn come?"

Both pulled back, and glanced confusedly in the direction of his voice, and then back at Draco, who was by now looking distinctly rumpled.

Harry's lips twitched. The two glared at him for a moment, then simultaneously burst into laughter. He joined them, leaning on the wall for support when he couldn't hold himself up much longer. Draco stepped back, looked at himself, growled in disgust, and spun on his heel, walking as quickly as he could back into the house.

"Oy! What's the ruckus about?" Ron stepped into the room; he had to duck his head.

"Nothing, really. Just—" Harry couldn't continue. He collapsed back onto the wall.

"We jumped Malfoy instead of Harry."

"Malfoy?" Ron paused. "What's he doing here?"

"You mean I didn't tell you?" The shock was enough to bring Harry back to sanity.

"You told us. We didn't tell him." Hermione was looking uncomfortable, but Ginny spoke matter-of-factly.

"Didn't tell me what?"

Harry couldn't get rid of the sinking feeling in his stomach. He glared at the girls. "Why?"

"Tell me what?"

"Because we knew how he'd react. You can't toss a bombshell like that and expect to get off being there to take the shit."

"TELL ME WHAT?"

Without looking at him, Harry spoke clearly. "The Malfoys have moved in here. Or the Blacks, more properly."

Ron was silent for long enough that Harry had to look up, just out of curiosity. He held his friend's gaze for a moment; Ron shrugged resignedly.

"You're too godawful nice. That's your problem. But if they're in, they're in. They're not making trouble, are they?"

A grin spread across Harry's face, as he was suddenly reminded of a very similar moment, two years ago. He shook his head. "These two really underestimate you."

"Which reminds me." He rounded on them. "Why didn't you tell me then? How long have you two been snickering over this piece of information, exactly?"

Both girls raised an eyebrow.

"Firstly, you know quite well that had we told you rather than Harry, you would have blown up at us."

"Secondly, we only found out last week."

"Thirdly, we don't _snicker._"

Harry exchanged glances with Ron. "How do they do that?"

"Beats me. I'll bet it's a girl thing. I'm still kind of angry, though."

"Leave it. You'll never beat them."

Ron sighed. "I suppose not. Now, are we going inside, or what?"

Draco re-entered the corridor, walking briskly, once again immaculate.

"Sorry about before."

"Not an issue."

"See you."

"See you." The door opened and closed almost soundlessly. A small _pop_ told them he had Disapparated a fraction of a second before it swung shut.

"And there you have what makes up our daily conversation."

"Such lovely, friendly people."

"Actually, they kind of are." They started down the corridor. "Life is systematic now. Everything on schedule."

"Wonder what that's like."

"Relaxing."

"I didn't take you for such a…"

"A what?"

"I'm not sure whether to say bachelor or homebody."

Harry turned to raise an eyebrow at Ginny. She shrugged. His lips twitched, and he turned back.

"Narcissa." She looked up.

"Sorry about this – is Cygnus asleep right now?"

"Oh, no, he's awake. He's right here." She indicated the bundle at her side, and then picked him up as she stood.

"That's good. I didn't want to wake him while carrying this up. We can do that now, then. Are Alphonse's and Bianca's rooms free?"

"Yes, of course. We just finished redecorations; they're quite ready for use. How long will you be staying?" She posed the question to the three others, her tone neutral and courteous.

"Um – we just came for the week. Perhaps a little longer." Hermione managed to blurt out the words.

Narcissa smiled softly at her. "That's nice. The house feels rather empty with just four. If there's anything I can help with, please ask." She turned her face back to her baby, and sat back down.

"Come on, let's go. Don't bump too much, or the pictures wake up."

"You mean they're all back up now?"

"We just left whatever there still was hanging there. Now that the Malfoys are here, they wake up when they feel like it. They can be snappish."

"Alright, then."

They reached the top of the stairs without much incident. Harry sighed inwardly with relief. Weasleys were not people the portraits agreed with, he was sure.

"So you know all the rooms by owner now?"

"I've fallen into the habit of calling them by those names. How else do you identify them?"

"True. Is the redecoration going well?"

"She doesn't have much to do besides take care of Cygnus, so she and Kreacher are out to return the house to all its former glory." He snorted. "At least it's clean. We never had the kind of success she does. I think the house likes her."

"The house likes her?"

"Are you sure they haven't been messing with you/"

"You'll see what I mean." He opened the door to Alphonse's room, and the three of them gasped.

"Are you sure this is the same room we saw year before?"

"The same one we were in. She didn't even need to buy new fabric."

"You're kidding."

"See what I mean?"

"So I'm in this one?"

"Yes, Ron, this one's yours. I think you girls can comfortably share Bianca's."

"What gives? My brother gets a room to himself, and we're just piled in together?"

"Go next door and say that again."

There was silence for a moment as both girls rushed out the door and down the corridor.

They were back in a moment.

"You think that's about enough?"

Mutely, the two nodded.

"Good. Now, if you guys would do me a favour, don't change too much. Stay neat, don't spill anything, and quietness helps if you want to stay on the good side of the portraits." He frowned. "Although the portraits would probably start as soon as they saw you, so just stay quiet."

"Barely above age, and already old."

"It isn't such a huge deal. If you feel like it's getting to you, we'll all go to Diagon Alley, ice creams on me."

"How often have you done this?"

Harry frowned. "Not often. I've just got used to it."

The three of them eyed him. "You need to come over to the Burrow after the week is out."

"Yeah. Where's my best friend?"

"Where's my boyfriend?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not that different. Just the volume's been turned down a little."

Ginny sighed melodramatically. "I suppose we'll have to manage. Anyway, the room is worth it, for a week."

"There you go, I knew you'd turn."

She punched him on the shoulder.

"Anyway, if you wash up quickly, you can come see Cygnus. Narcissa's obsessive about cleanliness where he's concerned."

"All right, then. I for one look forward to a nice, long bath."

"Me first."

"Don't worry, there's two bathrooms to that suite."

"This Bianca knew how to live."

"Apparently, she was Muriel's best friend."

They all paused. He grinned. "Got you."

"Oh, ha, ha."

"Why did they name him Cygnus, anyway?"

"It means swan."

"I don't give a damn what it means. He's going to be made fun of when he grows up. He needs a good, short nickname."

"I'm not sure how much Narcissa would like that." Harry's lips twitched.

"She can't complain; she's got a nickname herself; Cissy, or something. I think he should be called Cyg."

"As in Sig Sauer?"

"What's a Sig Sauer?"


	4. Welcome

A/N: Review, please! My only request, now and for ever, will be to _review._

Harry rubbed his eyes, a little weary. They were right, he thought. He really was changed. What he needed was a good, long flight or two to get his blood pumping again. Otherwise, he'd become an old woman.

He opened the small side door in his room, half-stepping in to wash his hands before going downstairs. He still found Narcissa's obsession with cleanliness amusing; any infant could be easily treated with mild charms, so her fussing was, to say the least, redundant. _Mothers will be mothers._ He felt a slight pang at that. His mother had been like that with him, always worrying.

Since the cleanup had begun, many things had come to light. Old objects, some dangerous, but many fairly normal; dried flowers that still smelled faintly sweet; and letters. In the short year that his parents had lived in Godric's Hollow with him, they had sent over fifty letters to Grimmauld Place. More were uncovered every week. He had been filing them carefully, and he read them at night, when he was too restless to sleep. He often read with his album of pictures alongside him; as he turned the pages of both, he discovered new sides to his parents that he hadn't thought existed. The pictures took on a new meaning for him each time he looked at them.

He drifted down, lost in thought, and came to sit on the couch opposite Narcissa. She looked up at him silently.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I invited them. It was a while back, and I didn't think to mention it later."

"That's perfectly all right. It's nice to have visitors." She smiled, satisfied with the apology. "Life will become a little interesting."

"I'm glad you think of it like that. I didn't mean to burden you."

"Not at all." Cygnus cooed, and both simultaneously smiled. The child was enchanting. No one could resist him.

"Um…" The three of them stood at the foot of the stairs.

"Come here, don't stand there looking like dolts."

As one, they came forward and sat down. Narcissa smiled at them, and stretched out her arms. Automatically, they all looked down.

Large, clear grey eyes stared back up at them from a small, heart-shaped face with a sharp chin.

Harry smiled. They were trapped. He leaned forward to stroke his head with the rest.

"He's so sweet!"

"He's very like you…"

"Thank you; everyone tells me that." They could hear her pride in her voice. "Do you want to hold him?"

"Could we?"

"You have just washed, haven't you?" Her voice suddenly became sharper.

"Of course, Narcissa. I told them to take a bath before coming downstairs." Harry's tone was amused, and a little exasperated.

"All right, then."

Hermione held out her arms, and the bundle was lowered into them carefully. The bundle wriggled; a hand was put out to grab her nose. All of them laughed.

And, just like that, things became comfortable. In a moment, they were all chatting as if there was nothing to it. Even Ron joined in, awkward but there.

"I still think he needs a nickname."

Narcissa looked at him. "Then suggest one. I haven't been able to do a thing with his name to make it pardonable in normal speech."

"Really?" Ron's tone was incredulous. "Why not Cyg?"

She wrinkled her nose faintly. "Cyg?"

"As in Sig Sauer?" Hermione looked at him quizzically.

"_What_ is a Sig Sauer?"

Harry sighed. "It's a kind of gun. You know, the thing they told the Muggles Sirius was carrying the year he escaped."

Narcissa's face puckered. "I'd prefer something else, if you don't mind. 'Cyg' is a little…"

Cygnus cooed. They all looked at him.

"Wait – say that name again." Ginny looked at Narcissa, who looked confusedly back as she said "Cyg?"

He laughed. His mother blinked. After a second, Ron crowed.

"Cyg it is!"

Narcissa sighed softly, and the girls glared at him. "You know, it's not polite to name someone else's baby."

"Hark who's talking! My owl is named Pig because I want him to be, is it?"

"Oh, no, it's all right. I'm just a little disappointed." She laughed, the sound surprisingly deep for her soft voice. "That's the first time he's recognized his own name. But for the name to be Cyg, of all things…" She trailed off into laughter. "He's a contrary little soul." She bent her face to his. "Is that your name? Cyg?"

He gurgled.

"Cyg."

He gurgled again. She laughed delightedly. "It's worth it, though. Thank you." She looked at Ron and smiled. His ears flushed brilliantly. The girls laughed.

They spent the day together, laughing and chatting, moving to the dining room for lunch and back again.

Draco returned at around five. Weirdly enough, he sat right down with them, took Cygnus in his arms, made a face when his mother called him Cyg, and joined in, in his own quiet way, laughing at the jokes and commenting occasionally.

It was one of the strangest days Harry had ever spent, simply because it was so normal. It felt like dinner at the Weasley's – informal and fun. Fun wasn't usually a word he associated with the Malfoys.

He went upstairs at about nine, with the rest of them. He didn't get out his file of letters, feeling too tired to stay up much longer. Quickly, he stripped, showered, and put on a set of pajamas. At the last minute, he changed his mind, and sat down in his armchair instead. But he couldn't find anything to do.

What was it? Something was nagging him; he couldn't put his finger on it.

Someone knocked. He opened the door, and Ginny stepped inside quickly, snapping the door shut behind her with her heel.

"I didn't get a proper welcome, you know."

"I'm sorry for that."

"That's all right. I figured you were waiting for an appropriate moment." She stepped towards him. "But no – despite a dozen chances, you didn't."

"I really am very sorry."

"It's really all right. I thought that you were probably waiting for the most appropriate time." She took another step. "But it came, and you didn't show. So I figured I'd remind you."

"Oh?"

"For needing a reminder, you should be sorry."

"Then I am."

"And if I don't believe you?"

"I'll do my job properly this time." He stepped forward this time, and kissed her, hard.

After a long moment, they broke apart, gasping. Harry lifted a corner of his mouth. Ginny lifted an eyebrow.

"Welcome home."

She smiled back at him then. "There we go."

They didn't speak again, for a very, very long time.


	5. Confessions

"Ow!" Ginny only just remembered to keep quiet, and curled the trodden toe silently in her slipper.

"Who's there?"

"It's me, you genius. Now come inside before the portraits hear us."

She tugged at Hermione's sleeve and silently opened the door. The two girls slipped inside.

"What are you doing, up at four in the morning?" She jumped up onto her bed as she spoke.

Hermione looked taken aback, and immediately looked shiftily away. "Erm – bathroom."

"The bathroom's there." Ginny pointed to the small alcove in the corner.

"Well – what were _you_ doing up, then?" Hermione climbed onto her bed too; the difference in stature the large four-poster caused was simply too ridiculous.

She looked back at Ginny, and received a grin. "Guess."

Hermione stared. "But Ginny—"

"Don't start playing high-and-mighty. After all, it looks as if I'm supposed to be _guessing_ after your activities too." The older girl turned beet red, and Ginny smirked. "I think I've guessed correctly."

Hermione threw a pillow, which Ginny caught calmly, and threw back with much better aim. Without bothering to stop it, Hermione received it full in the face, and sank down into it.

"You needn't be so embarrassed, you know."

"Oh, really?" The muffled voice made Ginny laugh. The face lifted slightly, so as to make itself heard a little better. "And just how is that managed?"

"Just don't think of it as a big deal."

"What?" Surprised out of her embarrassment, Hermione looked up. "But it is a big deal! Isn't it for you?"

"Of course it is." For a moment, the other girl's eyes glinted brightly. "It's a _very_ big deal. But that's not what I meant. I meant, stop taking it so seriously. Forget about how embarrassing it's supposed to be. Concentrate on what it _is._"

Hermione's forehead wrinkled a moment, and smoothed out again. She threw the pillow back again playfully. "I'm supposed to be the smart one."

Ginny returned the shot automatically, and smiled. "Maybe you'll have to give up that position."

"Are you really that eager to sit in the library all day, reading and researching?"

"Then again, maybe not."

Hermione sighed. "At least I don't have to hide it now. Well, not with you, anyway."

"I think we have a mutual accord that word does not reach the boys. I can vouch for my brother's inability to take this particular bit of news."

"You should give him a little credit, you know." Hermione's voice was disapproving. "He took the news about the Malfoys well enough."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Well, Harry's still a little more understanding than Ron – and I say little only to humour your current mood. Are you prepared to tell him?"

"That's not—"

"Oh, I don't mean, are _you_ prepared. I mean, would _he_ be able to take it sanely?"

Hermione fell silent. "Probably…given a little time."

"Shall we agree, then, to give them their time?"

She bristled. "The agreement was never in question. Merely the bias implied by it."

"Ah, but the bias is the crux of the agreement, isn't it? Anyway, you agreed, that's what matters."

"I think I need to get to sleep. I'm actually feeling confused."

"Then you definitely need sleep. Did you get any at all?"

Hermione's face turned red. "Well…"

"Come on, you can tell me."

"Oh, for goodness' sake…"

Someone knocked.

After a pause, the knock came again. Ginny raised her voice, a trifle shakily.

"Come in."

The door opened slightly, and Narcissa entered the room.

The girls stared at her dumbly. The irony was simply too obvious to miss. Of the few people in the house, she was maybe the least likely person to walk in at that moment and catch them.

Well, except maybe for Malfoy.

Wait, she was a Malfoy. The other Malfoy, then.

But no, her name was Black now. So Malfoy.

"Good morning to the both of you. I realise this may be unexpected for you, but as I'm perfectly at ease, if you don't mind my taking the liberty—"

She waved her wand in a fluid stroke, and muttered, "Praevenio."

Two small shots of light left her wand, and hit the two girls before they could react. By reflex, both stiffened; but neither carried forward the action into any form of opposition. On the contrary, both turned red.

Narcissa glanced from one face to another, a laughed. "It's a good thing I'm here, I think. Has either of you had need to perform that spell, or others like it, before?"

Mutely, both shook their heads.

"Then perhaps you wouldn't know that this one requires an adult to perform it. A rather old-fashioned limit, I suppose, and there are newer methods. But this is the most effective, and the least painful." She sighed. "At least, I'm watchful. This sort of magic can go very wrong, if miscast."

She glanced at them again. "Well. What's the issue now? All cleared up. Were you thinking of going to bed immediately, or would you be alright if I stayed to chat?"

Ginny recovered first. "Please, stay. I don't think we're going to fall asleep soon."

"Thank you very much for that, Narcissa. You didn't need to wake up for us."

"Oh, no, I'm usually awake at this time. Cygnus keeps me up. I just happened to notice that this room was empty, when I came out to speak to the portraits. _Accio_." She brought forward a plush armchair from the corner, and sat down easily.

"Oh." They fell silent.

"So tell me – how was it?"

Both looked at her abruptly. She smiled serenely. "You needn't feel very shy. It was rather common in this place, in fact. Most girls of pureblood families couldn't boast of virginity after the age of sixteen or seventeen." She laughed. "A side effect grouping a large number of teenagers under one roof for extended periods, I suppose."

"Even you?"

She laughed again. "Oh, no, not me. I watched, certainly. But I was a pure child. It wasn't really an option, you see."

"Don't you—"

Ginny shushed Hermione with a look; a troubled look was suddenly in her eyes.

"You were? How old are you?"

She received a smile. "Not very nice to ask…but I'm actually fifty- seven this year."

Both girls struggled to hide their surprise. Putting all else aside, she looked as if she was in her early twenties – a little young even to be a mother. The obvious existence of Draco proved that she had aged slowly, but _fifty-seven_ was just unbelievable.

"I was actually the only Black at the time, I'm afraid. My parents ensured that. Naturally the only real choice for the Malfoys."

"Not even a sister? Wasn't that usual?"

"Usual it may have been, but nonetheless, there was only ever one real choice in any generation. Others were for…secondary opportunities, one might say. Regardless, both Bella and Dromeda were sent to Hogwarts."

"Isn't Bellatrix younger than you?"

"Well, yes. Ideally, she would have remained with me, but circumstances didn't allow for it."

Obviously, they couldn't pry further. Narcissa, however, watched them shrewdly. "Evidently, you realized that that was a circumvention, and, wisely, decided not to persist. Am I correct?"

What did you say to that? At least it seemed like she wasn't expecting a response. She continued, her voice a little flat. "Bella was actually born a twin, you know. They were both meant for my companions; but Bianca died at the age of twelve. My parents thought it wasteful to confine Bella after that."

Involuntarily, both girls glanced around the room, suddenly nervous. Narcissa didn't miss it.

"So you've heard the name. From Harry, I suppose? Of course." She sighed. "It's alright, you know. I'm not going to pounce on you for using my sister's room."

"They both lived here?"

"Well, yes, until Bianca's demise. Bella moved to another room after that – that's the one that's been cleaned out by the Ministry. No one used this room after that, really."

"What were they like?" Hermione wondered what had possessed her to ask such a personal question. Narcissa didn't seem to even notice, though. She smiled.

"Natural opposites. Bianca was sweet, airy almost, while Bella was always rushing everywhere, too fast, too temperamental. But she was the kinder of the two – always ready to try and help, however she could."

She didn't miss the slightly perplexed expressions both girls had. "Confused?" She laughed softly. "It's rather difficult to imagine for you, I suppose…

"But I'm sorry to bring this all up now. All this time, I've sidetracked from the original subject, haven't I?" Her eyes suddenly twinkled at them mischievously. "So will you answer my question?"

As one, they blinked at her.

Ginny was the first to overcome the slightly dazed feeling that the older woman had just given them.

"I suppose I can quite easily. It was absolutely perfect." She curled her legs underneath her, looking like a satisfied cat.

"Oh, really? So did you go to him, or did he call you?"

"I went there."

Narcissa tutted. "That sets a bad precedent. Make sure you correct it next time."

"How?"

"Make _him_ set it up."

"But he's an idiot."

"Men can be surprisingly resourceful when they want something badly enough." She winked. The gesture was so unlike everything they had seen of Narcissa – ever – that she laughed out loud.

"Your turn, Hermione." Ginny watched her appraisingly. Under their gaze, the girl turned beet red.

"You're kidding! Come on, you can't expect me to—"

She caught the look on Ginny's face. "All right, fine! It was…" She trailed off.

"Anytime now."

"It was amazing." Face in pillow yet again, she huffed indignantly at their laughter – at least, that was what it sounded like to them.

"So then – did he call you there, or what?"

"Well, no."

"So _you_ went?" The subtle but unmistakable hint of incredulity in Ginny's voice was worthy of a Slytherin. How odd, she thought offhandedly. Was the Slytherin in their room thinking that? Another oddity there: A Slytherin in their room, in a Slytherin house owned by a Gryffindor whose godfather was from a Slytherin family. Links upon links. How had no one noticed before?

When had she become such a distracted person?

"No! I mean, not with that in mind. I actually went to check if he had a book of mine in his trunk."

"You're joking."

"I'm not!" The earnest note in her voice was unquestionable. Ginny sighed.

"Are you really older than me, Hermione?"

"Oh, no, it's actually better this way." Narcissa' eyebrows were raised slightly.

"How's that?"

"Usually, boys have a tendency to think themselves responsible for everything unaccounted for. Sheer arrogance, if you ask me. But at least, it's useful to milk that while you can." She smiled slowly. "You have no idea how amusing it can be."

"I thought you didn't have much experience in this."

"I'm fifty-seven. Just because I was never a free-ranging teenager doesn't mean I have little experience. Besides, I watched my cousins a lot at your age."

She sighed. "It's late – early, rather. I suspect we'll all wake up late tomorrow – except perhaps Draco. I'll leave you to sleep." She stood.

"See you later, then."

"See you."

She smiled at them. "See you."

Though the words came off her tongue easily enough, they sounded odd, coming from her.

Had Lucius Malfoy's wife ever been this informal?

Probably not. How odd, the things that peacetime did to you.

Or maybe it was wartime that was odd, and peacetime just felt strange afterwards.

There, she was distracted again.

The door closed softly, and the lights that had been burning brightly for the past half-hour dimmed. Both girls lay back, and pulled up the covers.

"What did she mean by pure child?"

Ginny turned to look at her, face unreadable.

"It's an ancient practice in the wizarding world ==not one you'd know about, though. Historically, wizards have treated men and women equally, giving them equal right of inheritance, choice in names, and equal education. But pureblood families often raised a few children as what they termed 'pure'. While for boys, it simply meant knowledge of certain secrets unknown to anyone else but family members raised this way – as well as a strict code of conduct – for girls, it meant a complete cut-off from non-familial society."

"But surely at Hogwarts—"

"They didn't attend. They were schooled at home." She ignored the shocked expression on her friend's face. "Of course, it actually meant that they were far ahead of Hogwarts students in terms of education. They came to the school to give their OWLs and NEWTs, usually at least two years ahead of time."

"But what's the point?"

"Does tradition have a point?" She paused. "Not every child could be – only those who exhibited certain characteristics. Most commonly, white hair and skin that doesn't tan. Powerful magic, manifesting clearly from infancy. Later, abnormally fast mental development and advanced understanding. Occasionally, supernormal abilities most wizards are incapable of. Confinement was usually considered necessary, to protect both the children and the community from their powers." She snorted. "Eventually, it became a sort of status symbol, and people started faking it. It stopped really mattering who was and wasn't the real thing. Laws instituted about thirty years ago ended that practice. But if a pure child comes up, then they still have to be registered, and for girls, confinement is still usual."

"Why girls and not boys?"

"Girls are stronger – if degree matters at all. It's actually unnecessary. They're perfectly sane individuals, capable of handling themselves."

"So Narcissa was…"

"Yes. Back then, it probably meant that her childhood was shit."

"Does it still happen?"

"Obviously, if considered necessary. I think there's maybe one family now with a pure girl. Definitely not more."

"But why? It should have been outlawed thirty years ago, then, not regulated! How unfair is that, to confine a child unnecessarily?"

"Keep your voice down." Ginny's voice was cold. "You can't fight everything, Hermione. Some things are too old, too powerful. You know, pure children are the main reason Muggleborns are looked down upon?"

"What?"

"It's why they stopped attending Hogwarts, two thousand years ago, when Salazar Slytherin walked out. It's what he was fighting for. It's why pure children who do attend are always placed in Slytherin, too."

Ginny turned to lie on her side. "It's not your business, Hermione. It's theirs. I'm warning you about this; it's not one of your potential campaigns."

"Did I say anything of the sort?"

"You were thinking it. I don't want to offend you, Hermione, but I won't let it drop. Promise me you won't get involved in this."

Ginny's face was hard.

"I promise."

Abruptly, she turned, and drew up her comforter. "Good. Now good night."

Hermione watched the lump of sheets rise and fall, gradually slowing and evening out. She felt her own breath slowing, and her eyes drooped.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!"

Ginny looked over at her as she opened her eyes blearily.

"Hurry up and shower, it's already nine."

"All right, all right." She sat up and stretched. "I wonder how long it's been since I actually slept in."

"It's been about two years for me."

"I think I'm standing at around ten."

"Sometimes, you scare me."

"A lot of people tell me that." She pivoted off the bed, and walked towards the bathroom, a little unsteady.

"I'm going down for breakfast, all right?"

"Okay. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."


	6. News

"No way." Harry gazed up, transfixed, at the small, oddly shaped yet recognizable dot that moved towards Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place through the skylight meant for just that purpose.

Ginny looked up. "What?" Following his line of sight, she raised an eyebrow. "Are there fifty out there? Come on, you can't be that surprise dby that now."

Mutely, he shook his head and held up two fingers.

"So it's Hermione's and Malfoy's copy of the Prophet."

"Don't be silly, Ginny, they won't do that again. Remember how those two screeches fussed yesterday when they realized they were coming to the same address?" Hermione held a book open with thumb and two fingers while she ate her cereal, not even bothering to look up as she spoke.

A curious mirror image sat opposite her, eating toast held in three precarious fingers of his pale left hand. "At least it's not late today because it's carrying two. Those incompetents at the Prophet Owlery will find any excuse for their inefficiency."

Even Harry stared for a second. Draco never spoke in full sentences. Only Hermione didn't look up. From opposite the table, Narcissa smiled wryly. "It's the only time when he manages any degree of articulacy -- when he's reading."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "A bit counterintuitive. Why would distraction aid in correctness?"

"Because distraction, if in the correct decision, banishes doubt."

"Okay, shut up, everyone."

This time even Draco looked up to stare. When was the last time Harry had been impolite? Oh, right, before March.

Still, Hermione was looking down at her book. Ginny shot her a brief glance and silently shook her head, marveling.

Harry opened the skylight to let in the two birds -- a barn owl and a screech that was simply huge --and allow them to circle over the table dropping their load and perch on the shiny metal bar that ran the length of the wall. Hedwig and Pigwidgeon obligingly scooched a little to allow the two newcomers to nibble delicately at the grain trough. Draco and Hermione, papers in hand, both waved their wands, directing small rows of Knuts into the screech owl's velvet purse.

They were still both distracted, albeit now with different things. Draco matched the rest of the crowd, holding his letter in openmouthed shock. The smooth, creamy, thick envelope that they had never expected to see again, with the embossed wax seal emblazoned on it.

A moment passed, and almost as one, they ripped the letters open, and scanned the contents eagerly.

After a moment, Draco picked up his tightly furled paper again, shaking it loose one-handed, the other still clutching the letter desperately. Th rest looked at him. He began to read, his eyes almost blurring as they scanned the front page; then he tossed it onto the smooth tabletop, letting the others see.

*HOGWARTS BACK ON ITS FEET: SEVENTH YEAR PROBLEM RESOLVED*

Below was a picture of McGonagall, sitting in the headmaster's office, looking almost as still as a Muggle picture, except that she seemed to be speaking.

Draco spoke. "She's good for something, then. The place is going to send us through seventh year again." He snorted. "Can't say I'll like repeating, though."

But he was smiling quietly, which for him was the equivalent of the ear-to-ear grins on everyone else's faces.

Ginny was first to notice. "Hermione, have you even been listening? Where's your letter?"

The screech and barn owls suddenly flurried their wings and left through the still open window.

Ron's forehead furrowed. "You didn't get one. How?"

Hermione still didn't look up from her book as she spoke. "I spoke to Professor McGonagall and wrote my NEWTs last year. I passed in all of them, with O's in everything but DADA." Her face flickered. "Typical. In both OWL and NEWT, I got an E there."

"So that means...you're not coming?" Ron's voice was quiet.

"Yes. I'm a graduate."

Harry blinked. "But...you have to come." He said it almost as though he was startled. Hermione looked up at him, anger abruptly on her face.

"Yes, of course, I have to come. If you say so, Mr. Harry. Well, like it or not, I won't be coming. I can't. Get over it!" Her face had turned pink, and her eyes were a little too bright. She stood up. "I'm done. I have some work to do. See you." She took her bowl to the sink, laeving it clattering loudly there, and walked upstairs stomping, waking up each and every portrait on the way.

As Narcissa sighed and got up to handle the annoyed moans and shouts that were now filling the house, Draco raised an eyebrow. "Very well handled, Potter."

Harry glanced at him tiredly, and looked back at his empty bowl, too tired to deal with even that right now. Ron snapped, "Shut up, Malfoy," and glared morosely at the bottom of his own bowl for a moment, before getting up abruptly, sweeping it off the table, and leaving it clattering in the sink much like Hermione's before stalking off.

Draco and Harry continued to sit before their empty dishes, lost in their own thoughts, barely noticing each other. Completely unnoticed by either one, Kreacher snuck in to the room and cleared their dishes away, leaving them staring at wood and space.


	7. Coming to Terms

Hermione sat on the recently discovered turret in the Burrow, which had only been uncovered after the ghoul had moved away. Her eyes shone white, reflecting the moonlight – or starlight; the existence of such a thing as starlight became an afterthought once you started living in the city, Harry thought to himself as he settled down wordlessly next to her. She didn't turn, which he took to mean she didn't mind – much, at least. He turned his face upwards as well, half-smiling at the familiar sight that he had been missing. After a moment, though, he closed his eyes.

The images were there in his head, waiting for him.

Narcissa in the woods, eyes shining with a light that he had seen not twenty minutes ago. The white, scared face of his rival next to her, helping her stay standing. _What is this? _Draco's voice had been layered with fear, that he had heard so many time but never comprehended the reason for.

_I killed him. I killed him._ The voice in his head, ragged, close to insane, unable to stop.

A face, strikingly like his godfather's, though not as handsome. The powerful wave of feeling it was accompanied by. Endless, endless memories of him, his smile, his voice, his hesitation, his unusually sharp perception. Through it all, the wracking, overwhelming feeling. The delirious happiness just the memories gave. The grief. The regret.

The regret.

So painful it nearly killed him. A line formed on his face, remembering it, how it seemed to physically attack his body, with him having to stop himself from blocking any of it, while he had that power. The terror of losing that power, so deep that he had to then switch to holding on, just as desperately, to his sanity.

The memories shifted, from Narcissa's to his own. Hermione, this evening. The scorn on her face, almost willfully held there to mask the pain underneath. _Yes, because of course, you'll be having your new friends, won't you? You won't need to miss me. You didn't see fit to tell _us _why you're suddenly all chummy, either, did you? I suppose a letter telling us that your personal enemy of seven years is moving in is enough. Tell me, Harry, what is it? Going to go off on a campaign next year? Is that what you're preparing for? You need the money – or is it the connections? And next year, when the case is won and the money is back safe in _criminal _hands, and the name is cleared and everyone is associating with them again, Ron could marry a Malfoy cousin, and wouldn't everything be just lovely! Don't worry; I'll come to the wedding without making a scene. Harry _is_ my friend, after all. It wouldn't do to embarass him when it's just so _important-"

He glanced to the right, noting half-guiltily the red streaks across her cheeks. But it had been necessary – to calm them both down. So had the words, spoken coldly enough to shock them both out of the fight. _You should know how it is I would support them now. You were the one reading about it for almost all of last year._ He had watched, selfishly pleased, as her eyes had grown abruptly wide, staring at him in immediate remorse, as she realized exactly what Narcissa Malfoy had gone through in the last month of using that name.

He had gone on, quieter. _I had to help her. I was in her mind for most of the time. She would've gone insane otherwise._ He had laughed, cutting off her angry remark. _I can hear a lot more now. Entire minds. Even the dead. She spoke to him.. the person she killed._ She had interrupted. _They all do._ He had told her that _he_ had been the medium for Narcissa…I_ was the way she spoke to him. And she spoke to him a lot._

He had left the room after the long silence that had followed – a nowhere silence, more awkward than anything else.

Hermione turned to him now.

"So she let you tell people."

"In a sense. She let me, but I refused. She said the right was mine anyway."

"That means that she let you."

"But –"

"You didn't let yourself. But she let you."

Harry gave in. "Yes."

Hermione turned back. "That's good. I've never known you to break trust."

He had to laugh at her logic. Though he supposed the twisted logic was his own, really.

Then he laughed some more, because it felt good, now that Hermione was talking to him, despite a fight.

"So…everything's all right, then?" They both turned at the sound of Ron's voice.

"Yes, everything's all right, Ron." Hermione smiled at him. "Come sit here."

Gingerly, he made his way out and sat on her right. She leaned on him, not saying anything, and he stroked her hair.

He spoke after a moment. "You know, having to write to you to talk is going to be a pain in the neck."

She punched him. He bore it unflinchingly.

"No, really. You write like a textbook, I swear. It's no fun not talking face to face."

She laughed weakly. "You'll have to bear with it. I'm not losing my boyfriend because he has to repeat a year."

"Don't worry." Ron's voice was dry, but his ears were red, and his eyes glowed brilliantly in the moonlight. "I'll hold on to my girlfriend – even if she skipped a year, being the bloody idiot she is."

And then: "Mum's getting hot chocolate downstairs."

"You should have brought me some." Hermione pouted up at Ron.

"I'm getting my own. It's too sappy up here by far." Harry got up to draw away attention from his large, foolish grin.

Hermione laughed. He knew she had noticed it anyway.


End file.
